Same Old Love
by midnightweeds
Summary: Tom licked his lips. "Well. I'd like to live forever, I suppose." Her smile became a grin, "Wouldn't we all?" / / AU Tomione
1. Part 1

**Disclaimer:** I am not JK Rowling.

 **A/N:** I decided to play around with an idea from earlier this year. It's a modern AU one-shot; magic is real but the Wizarding World isn't...I've completed writing it, so I'll update every few days, so long as things get edited timely. There are five parts total. Hopefully you can enjoy.

* * *

 **Same Old Love**

DKM

 _"...All beginnings are always, inherently, so beautiful..."_

 _-_ Rainer Maria Rilke, _Letters to a Young Poet_

* * *

 **I.**

"Would you like to get coffee?"

Hermione agreed, unable to find a reason not to.

They ended up at a café just down the road, and ordered food instead of coffee. She felt slightly restless, desperately wanting to know what it was like to have a clock that didn't work. Plenty of people just didn't have one at all, but this situation was incredible. She'd never heard of it.

"Did you go to Eton?"

"I attended a school in Scotland."

"Oh. I'm sorry, you just…look familiar."

Tom smiled, dark eyes shining as he sipped his Cherry Coke.

"If you don't mind me asking, where is it?"

"My clock? It's over my heart."

Hermione gasped, her eyes widening with sadness. "How cruel," she murmured.

He seemed amused. "Would you like to see it?"

"Well, _yes_ , but that's highly inappropriate."

He shrugged, "You are wedded, and mated, Ms. Granger. I am simply a man god couldn't find the time to fate."

"That isn't a positive way to talk about yourself."

He chuckled, unbuttoning his shirt carelessly. "It is how those like yourself view me. I have no qualms about it."

She blushed, looking down at her soda. "This is so inappropriate."

"Just look. You want to. Why deny yourself?"

She did, her eyes instantly finding the broken timer. She felt an odd tug in her chest for a man she didn't even know an hour ago. "How does it feel?"

He leaned over and grabbed her hand, startling her frozen. Before she could consider what was happening, he was rubbing her fingers against his chest. His heart beat soothingly beneath her touch.

She pulled away as though she'd been burned. "I meant knowing, but not _knowing_."

Tm buttoned his shirt quickly, leaving his neck undone. It made him look so casually cool that Hermione was forced to relax as well. "It doesn't feel like anything."

"Are you in a relationship?"

"A sexual, unemotional one."

She blushed again; he laughed.

"What is it like for you?"

Hermione blinked. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. I have always wanted to ask," he informed her, an incredible lack of curiosity in his tone.

"You've never been with someone fated?"

"You lot are a pretty tough one to crack." He was teasing, she saw it in his eyes, but his tone was so serious.

"So your conquest isn't fated?"

"Conquest?" He laughed. "No. It's a bit complicated. I…Like you, she is wed to her mate. She just," he shrugged without concern. "They maintain an emotional and intellectual relationship while seeking pleasure elsewhere."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "I…do you know her husband?"

"Yes. She picked his conquest," he laughed again, "and he picked hers."

Hermione smiled, uncertain and uncomfortable with what she was hearing. Stirring her lemonade, she said, "Perhaps that isn't something I needed to know."

Tom smiled toothlessly, sipping his soda. "Telling me your story would have been more comfortable, I'm sure."

"It doesn't seem fair for me to rave about my life and marriage, Mr. Riddle."

"Tom. Please call me Tom. And I'm asking. I genuinely would like to know. It isn't something I can even imagine."

"Much like me trying to comprehend your life," she remarked lowly before leaning on the table, glancing at her wrist. Her Twenty~4 was covering the markings, but she knew what it looked like. "I met Ron at Eton. My best friend had a sports event, and he was there. As it turned out, they're siblings, but I hadn't known. She has a lot of- well. That isn't important.

"I never made a big deal out of my clock. My parents don't have one, and it just wasn't something I gave much thought to growing up. I checked it maybe once or twice a month, and it was always changing anyway. So, I wasn't really impacted when it said I was on my last week. But, when it said I only had an hour, I got nervous –we went to an all girls' school, and at Eton there were just so many boys around, I was almost horrified to think that he could have been standing in the room-anyway, when there were only a few minutes left I hid in the bathroom, waiting for it to change again."

She laughed, remembering what I was like to realize she'd meet her mate in five minutes. It'd been unreal. "I started hyperventilating when it didn't. I don't know why. This person was supposed to be my soul mate. I should have felt calm and ready and, I don't know, Tom. I was just nervous, you know? I'm not the prettiest witch. I'm not the kindest or most giving –not to mention I was at an athletic event, with not a sporty bone in my body."

"You're beautiful," he remarked. When she glanced up at him, she realized he was watching her intently. He _meant_ it.

"Oh…thank you. You're very handsome as well." She couldn't look at him anymore. She wasn't really sure why.

"Anyhow, I sucked it up and left. I nearly passed him, you know? He stopped me and said something stupid, I can't remember what, and I actually prayed that he wasn't my mate. All this red hair and freckles galore- they weren't traits I thought was attracted to. And he was funny. You know how you just meet someone and you know they're a joke?" She laughed, and he did too. They both thanked the waitress that brought their food. "I'm not a funny person. To this day I still don't really care for people that are."

"Except for him?"

"Well, yes. It doesn't bother me anymore. It never did, I guess. Anyway, I checked my clock to see how long I had to get away from him, and I saw that it'd stopped. He…he has a clock, too. Which isn't really normal. Usually only one mate has one, and the other has a matching tattoo or a half-birthday is their birthday, you know? So, that was really incredible. It really set the tone for our relationship.

"We graduated a few years later and went to the same college. He ended up getting picked up by Chelsea and when I graduated I decided to open up a few bookstores while I worked on my masters and PhD."

"Children?"

"No," she answered quickly, and laughed nervously. "I'm not ready for children. I'm only 25. There is too much left for me to do."

"But, he wants them?"

She swallowed, and ate a French fry to postpone answering. "He comes from a big – _big_ \- family…You know, most people would be interested in the team."

He seemed even less impressed than before. "I've a few friends in football. They're of no concern to me- how can you be soul mates if you do not agree on having children?"

"There is plenty we don't agree on, Tom. Soul mates or not, relationships are about compromise."

"Perhaps it is my circumstance, but I don't understand. This isn't you all deciding who's family gets you for Christmas. It's-"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"My apologies."

"What about you?" It was an open-ended question. She didn't care what he said as long as she didn't have to explain anymore. Thankfully, he took mercy on her.

"I'm a professor at the Cambridge."

"Are you? Impressive. Have you thought about settling down, then?"

"I hadn't considered it before."

"Before what?"

"You asked."

Hermione laughed. "What about children?"

"They are not at the top of my list of life requirements."

She smiled, watching as he took another sip of his soda. "What is?"

Tom licked his lips. ""Well. I'd like to live forever, I suppose."

Her smile became a grin, "Wouldn't we all?"

 **II.**

"Good morning, Tom."

He smiled, leaning on the counter. Setting a cup of coffee down, he met her eyes charmingly. "I guessed. Triple shot hazelnut latte with soy milk." At her surprised expression, he said, "I promised you coffee."

"Thank you. This is…my favorite."

"Curious."

"Why?" She asked, taking a sip.

"It's mine, too."

Uncertain of what to say, she smiled and said, "Your books came in last night." She pulled a bag from under her desk, ensuring his name was on the tag. "Interesting titles. Are you writing a book?"

"Not exactly. I'm researching herbal medicine and natural healing."

"For?"

"Fun."

She laughed, and he smiled. "Is this about wanting to live forever?"

His eyes danced, but he said nothing, simply watching her heavily.

"I could help," she told him, fingers tugging through her hair. "If you need further assistance. I'm…I'm a witch."

His brows rose. "I thought you were kidding."

"No, I don't…I mentioned that last week?" She frowned, unable to recall even bringing it up. It wasn't the first thing on her list of things to tell people. It'd taken her four years to tell Ron.

"Yes. What type of witch?"

"Um…I'm a healer."

"So, you could help me, then."

She shrugged, bottom lip between her teeth. "I could certainly try."

He smiled warmly. Too handsomely. Her skin chilled and chest tightened.

"Did you already know that? Is that why you asked me out?"

He thought about it, the decision of whether or not to lie obvious as his thoughts played out over his face. It was odd, because he'd been so guarded in every moment before this. "No," he finally decided. "I asked you to coffee because you were familiar." At her puzzled look, he said, "I've dreamed you for years."

Hermione dropped her coffee on the floor. "You need to leave."

"Have you dreamed me, too? Is that why I was familiar to you, as well?"

"Please. Just go. I don't know what you mean."

"Okay," he agreed. He left a card on the countertop after grabbing his bag. "Call me if you change your mind."


	2. Part 2

**Disclaimer:** I'm not JK Rowling.

* * *

 **III.**

"How's Harry?"

Ginny hummed, focused on polishing her toenails. "When I spoke to him last, on Tuesday, he was fine. I'm supposed to fly out to meet him tomorrow- he has the weekend off in Morocco." She glanced up to grin and wiggle her eyebrows at Hermione, who smiled back.

"Must be nice."

"'Bout as nice as it is being married to a footballer, girl," she laughed dryly, shaking her head as she finished her nails. "At least you can wear miniskirts and go dancing and generally not care.

"Life fucking sucks now that I'm 'dating' _Prince Harry_."

"Well, you can blame Ronald for that one."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Yeah. How is my brother, anyway? Mum tells me he hasn't been by in weeks."

"He's fine. You know how he gets around this time."

"Of course. He's off the grid."

"Yeah-listen. I need you opinion on something a bit odd."

Ginny set her polish on the coffee table and looked over at Hermione with sparkling green eyes.

"I meet a guy whose clock never started."

"What?"

"He has a clock. I saw it. I touched it. It looks exactly like anyone else's, it just…doesn't work, Gin."

"So, what? It's just blank? Just zeros?"

Hermione sighed. "You know how stopwatch just has those little vertical bars? Before you click it on, I mean. Right-that's what it looked like."  
Ginny grabbed her glass of wine off the table, kicking her feet up. "And I thought it sucked not having one," she murmured, looking at her bare inner wrist before downing the white. "I feel so sad for him. Who is he?"

"Tom Riddle."

Ginny choked. "Green eyed, curly haired Tom Riddle?"

"I suppose, Ginny. I don't know. It's a pretty common name."

"He's _beautiful_ , Hermione."

"Well, yes. He was quite handsome. Quite charming. Do you know him?"

Her eyes were wide, a half smile on her lips. "I can't believe he's still around."

"How do you know him?"

"Freshman year at Edin, I went to a party I shouldn't have been at- Harry was supposed to be there, and I was still working on him, remember? Anyway, Riddle was there. He's…goodness, me. I can't believe it. I always thought my heart would pound and stomach would knot when I heard his name again. I can't believe it."

"You loved him? I don't get it."

"No. No, no, no. I was infatuated, but it's always been Harry, Hermione. I just…wow. Riddle. That's quite sad to learn." She leaned forward and filled both of their wine glasses to the brim. "You shouldn't hang out with him, you know? You're a married woman. He…he's a guy that God couldn't even fate."

Hermione started at hearing those words again.

Downing her wine, she resolved to contact him.

 **IV.**

 **HW:** _Tom?_

 **TR:** _Dream girl?_

She waited, her heart pounding and palms hot.

 **HW:** _Please don't do that._

 **TR:** _My apologies, Ms. Granger. Would you like to meet for dinner?_

She dropped her phone on the counter, looking around her home for a sign. There wasn't one. She tugged at her curls.

 **TR:** _You may pick the time and place._

 _You'd feel better if this was on your terms, right?_

She left her phone on the counter, making herself a cup of tea before using the house phone to call her therapist. She didn't pick up.

 **HW:** _Hubbard & Bell. One hour._

She turned off her phone as soon as she saw that he'd read the message.

# # #

"Should I call you a taxi?"

She finished her wine, and he poured her half a glass more of the Cabernet. "No. I have a friend that lives nearby."

"Oh," he commented, obviously disbelieving.

She sighed. "My sister in law, Ginny, lives just down the road."

His brows rose. "Ginevra Weasley?" He asked, almost fondly.

She was embarrassed by the jealousy that pulsed through her.

"Yes. I suppose she would be your in-law. How is she?"

"Good."

He frowned before saying, "You don't plan on driving, do you?"

"I'm not allowing _you_ to take me anywhere, if that's what you're thinking."

He chuckled, reaching across the table. She was sure he'd touched her hand. Prayed it, even; she hated herself desperately for it, too. Instead of touching her, though, he took a truffle fry from one of the plates they were sharing.

Hermione took a few bites of her salad before saying, "She warned me away from you."

He smiled. "I'd never hurt you."

Hermione felt her heart stutter and skip. It was unreal. She needed to leave. She needed to get away from him. She'd made a huge mistake.

She couldn't move. "You hurt her?"

"No. Ginevra was very much in love when we met."

He politely left out that she'd also been a wild child, but the thought danced in his –god, they _were_ green; deep and dark like a summer woodland- eyes briefly.  
"You've told your husband, too, then?"

Hermione blinked. "Told him what?"

His brows rose. "About me."

She brushed her hair behind her ears, suddenly feeling incredibly warm. She blamed it on the wine. "You know Ronald?"

"God, no." He actually seemed repulsed. "If your husband was a friend of mine, Ms. Granger, we wouldn't be here right now."

"Why?"

He sat back, studying her curiously. "One could say it's for the same reason you haven't told him about us."

"Tom. There is no 'us.' There is nothing for me to tell him. We aren't doing anything."

"Alright. I should get you to your sister in law's though, before we not do anything more."

"I'm sure we're both competent enough to act appropriately."

He smiled, eyes sparkling mischievously. "Perhaps you are, Ms. Granger."

She glanced at her watch before finishing her wine. They'd been talking for two hours. "I…it's strange, isn't it? I was so sure of myself, of my relationship before we met. And now, so suddenly, I'm so uncertain. I'm confused."

Tom seemed pensive before saying, "Sometimes that who you believe to be your soul mate works better as a close friend. Also, it isn't uncommon for people to grow apart, or to be better apart."

She poured herself another glass of wine. "I'm Hermione Weasley. I don't give up."

"That isn't what I'm suggesting."

"Are you sure?" She sipped her wine. "Because that's what sounds like."

"Fine. Perhaps I am suggesting that you bow out of your marriage. But, don't think of it as losing something. Think of it as uniting with someone who can offer you more."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Was that too forward?" He asked, but it was obvious he didn't care if it was.

"A bit, Tom. A lot, really. I can't…I don't understand what you think you could offer me. I don't need-"

He leaned forward, eyes devouring her with their intensity. "You don't anyone, right? Your husband included."

She sighed. "What do you want from me?"

He smiled briefly. "The same thing you want from me, Ms. Granger."

She had a hard time believing him, because she had no idea what she wanted, and he seemed as though he knew everything in the world. Downing the rest of her wine, she said, "I can get to Ginny's on my own, thank you."

"I'm not letting you drive yourself to wherever she lives. I won't be responsible for your death."

Hermione laughed, brushing her hair out of her face. "It won't look good if I'm just dropped out, Tom. I can't-"

"I'll drive your car and come back for mine."

She was out of excuses. It wasn't like Ginny was home anyway.

He left money on the table –too much, but she didn't mention it. She just let him drive her to Ginny's.

# # #

 **TR:** _Would you like to continue doing nothing every 7_ _th_ _?_

For the first time in years, she felt her heart firm and warm in her chest. She thought to herself: _is this love, Hermione_?

But, she didn't reply, and he ordered his books his books via post.


	3. Part 3

**Disclaimer:** I'm not JK Rowling.

* * *

 **V.**

"Hello, Ms. Granger."

Hermione closed her eyes, attempting to still her pounding heart. Somehow, she'd known he was around. She'd felt hyper aware and _ready_ ever since she'd entered the stadium, and stupidly hoped it was because it was the first time she was seeing Ron in over a week. In fact, she'd almost gotten away with the childish wish, but she'd lingered too long after the game. So, she'd fucked herself, really.

Ginny gripped the soft flesh of her wrist, looking over her shoulder before Hermione could, obviously recognizing the voice.

"Ginevra Weasley," he murmured, just as fondly as he had nearly a month ago. She felt her throat fill with air. "What a sweet surprise."

There were a few other people in the elevator, none of which she knew, but the curious look the dark haired woman next to him told her that he wasn't alone. He was just _crazy_.

"Hey, Riddle," Ginny smiled beautifully.

Hermione turned slightly, eyeing the dark-hair woman before meeting Tom's eyes, "Hey."

"Quite the win for you all," he commented. He paid them equal attention, and for some _sick_ reason, she hated it.

"Not really," Ginny commented at the same moment Hermione said, "This is Chelsea."

A stranger laughed. It was so _quiet_.

"Excuse my manners. Bella," he draw his arm over the woman's shoulder as she smiled surely at them, "this is Ginevra and Hermione."

It was the first time he'd said her name. Beneath her Rolex, it felt as though someone was attempting to pry the skin from her wrist.

"You look a bit like the Chelsea's goalie," Bella commented.

"He's my brother, so," Ginny smiled tightly. Everyone knew exactly who she was, despite her connection to Ron, due to her relationship with the prince.

Unfazed, Bella looked over Hermione, "You must be his wife, then."

The elevator dinged; it wasn't their floor. Everyone else got off.

She brushed her hand through her hair, discreetly flashing the stones on her ring finger. Tom smirked; Ginny smiled. Bella was still unfazed. "Yes. Ron is my mate."

"Mate," Bella repeated, as though she'd never heard the word before. It was odd. It was uncomfortable. All Hermione could think about was the fact that this was more than likely the woman he'd told her about, and she was far prettier than she'd expected –older, too, if she were being honest.

Her wrist continued to burn.

The elevator dinged, Ginny tugged her off. "Charmed to meet you, I'm sure, Bella; and, it was nice seeing you, Riddle. Have a lovely day. Sorry your team lost."

Once the elevator closed, Ginny shoved away from Hermione. "What _was_ that?"

"What? What are you talking about?" She started toward her Lexus. "Should I not call him my mate?"

"That's _not_ what I'm talking about, Hermione _Granger_."

"Why…why did you call me 'Granger?'" She touched the door handle and tugged it open. As soon as they were in, she pulled out of her parking spot.

Her palms were damp and flesh hot. Even her head pounded. She didn't get it. It shouldn't have been that way.

Bitterly, Ginny said, "That's what he called you. You didn't correct him. You just….let him."

"I didn't notice, Gin. I'm sorry."

She pulled a bottle of water from the middle console. "Do you think he's dating her? Bella?"

"I don't know, Ginny?" Hermione blinked repeatedly, trying to clear her vision as they neared the garage exit. Her wrist burned painfully.

"She's quite pretty."

"What does it matter?"

"What's wrong with you?"

The car jerked to a stop. "I don't know. I don't," she pried off her watch, carelessly tossing it into the cup holder. "God. It hurts, Gin." Unbuttoning the sleeve of her blouse, she rolled the cuff up to see her clock.

Ginny gasped. Hermione began to cry.

Her skin was red and inflamed, as though someone really had tried to pry her flesh away. The clock no longer displayed the time and date she and Ron met. It had gone blank. Exactly like Tom's.

"Call Ron," she demanded. The car repeated the command, ringing filling their ears. It went to voicemail. "Call Ron," she repeated.

"Hermione?" He answered in the first ring, his voice full of fear.

She fell forward onto her steering wheel, sobs shaking her body. The sound of Ginny putting the car in park registered, but she didn't care. "God, Ron. I thought the worst."

"Me, too, love. What…what's happened?"

The fear didn't leave his voice. Instead, it only seemed to change. She wasn't dead, but it felt a lot like the end. It was the most empty she'd ever felt, and it was incredible how instantly it'd happened.

"I don't know."

"Gin?" He questioned lightly.

"Yeah."

Ron sighed. "Hermione, I love you. I'll try to grab a taxi home. This is….did it hurt you, too?"

"I feel empty and alone."

"Yeah. Me too. I'll be home. We'll be fine. See you soon, love."

He hung up, and she somehow felt worse.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. I just…I just need you to drive."

They switched seats, and Hermione grabbed her phone from the backseat.

 **RW:** _Have you cheated on me_

 **HW:** _No_

 **RW:** typing

typing

typing

 _I can't come home._

 _We're flying out to Paris tonight._

 _I love you._

 **HW:** _Have you?_

 **RW:** typing

typing

 _I love you._

 **HW:** _Ron…_

 **RW:** _I'm sorry. I love you. We'll talk soon._

She didn't know how to feel. Or what to do. They sat in silence until they got to the house.

"I need you to be my friend," Hermione murmured as they sat in the car. "I really need you to just be my friend right now."

"Okay. I can do that, Hermione."

Wiping the tears from her face, she said, "He cheated."

" _What_?"

Hermione passed her friend her phone. "I don't know how I'm supposed to feel, Ginny. I have…I've done nothing to deserve this. I've been so _good_. I go to church. I go to games. I go to mass, by my _self_ sometimes. I changed my name for him, Gin. You know how I felt about that. You know," she started crying again.

Ginny rubbed her shoulder soothingly.

"Is it because I don't want to have children? How could I have children right now? He is constantly away; I'm working on my PhD. _How_ could we have children? _How_ would that be fair? Why…why…why would he do this?"

"There is no good reason, Hermione. And it was nothing you did. You know that."

"Ask him when he did it," she nodded to her phone.

They waited ten minutes in silence before he replied. "He says you all will talk about it when he gets back."

"Ask him again."

Five minutes later he said, "Three months ago."

Hermione laughed sadly. She'd known Tom for just as long. But, she hadn't cheated. There was no way in hell she'd ever considered what she'd done cheating. Sure, she'd gone out with him knowing that he thought more of her than he should. She'd gone out with him knowing she'd dreamed of him, too –as a teenager, even after Ron, his face haunted her young years so poignantly she was surprised that it'd taken him _saying_ it for her to realize where she knew him from.

Still. She never cheated. She loved Ron. And it hadn't gotten her anywhere.

Ginny laughed bitterly. "What a fucking- oh my god. Oh my fucking god, I'll kill him. I'll fucking kill him. I'm going to kill my brother." She moved from panicked insanity to resolution so quickly that Hermione feared the worst.

In a smaller, careful voice she said, "I'm sorry, Hermione. I really am. I'm sorry for how I reacted earlier, too. About your name. Maybe you didn't realize because of this. You know, the whole soul-mate thing. The world conspires to get you together…I don't see why it wouldn't conspire to keep you safe, too. Especially from each other."

"What are you talking about, Ginny?"

"He's still seeing her."

# # #

Ginny stayed the night, sleeping with Hermione in the guest room, and the witch found that she was grateful in the morning. She was still empty and alone, but her mind was quiet. She'd accepted that all it took was a stranger –a _moment_ \- to change the course of someone's life, and finally understood Ginny's fear that Harry would one day wake up and decide she wasn't good enough.

Love was a dangerous ledge she didn't want to be anywhere near. Not anymore. Not with…not with Ron, at least.

"Do you really believe in all that?" Ginny asked quietly.

Hermione looked over to see her friend rubbing her eyes, the morning light catching her hair as it came through the window. "Do I believe in magic?"

"Yeah," she breathed.

"How couldn't I, Gin?" She tucked her crystal amulet back under the collar of her shirt. Sighing, she said, "Your mother is going to hate me."

"Why? Because Ron _cheated_ on you?"

"No. Because I'm going to ask for a divorce."

They laid in silence long enough for the sun to warm the room, nearly blinding the both of them as it covered the white interior. Ginny reached over for Hermione's hand, her fingers brushing the clock on her inner wrist as she observed it.

"I support whatever decision you make, Hermione. My parents didn't raise any of their children to be unfaithful or half-in. I'm with you, and Mum will understand. I promise."

"I should go to Paris," Hermione murmured.

"I don't think so. Give it a week. We could have a girls vacation. Wanna go to Mount Kenya? We could stay in Will and Kate's rooms."

"That's _awfully_ romantic."

"You're right. How about Dubai? Meet a nice billionaire..."

She smiled at her friend's teasing tone but didn't saying anything. At length, Ginny asked, "Are you going to call him?"

Hermione laughed, rubbing her eyes as she sat up. It didn't take a genius to know who she was talking about it. "Should I?"

Ginny grinned, hopping out of bed and dancing around the room. "I would, if I were you. Aside from the fact that your clock looks like his now, and maybe he could provide some insight on what thats like, I _saw_ the way he was looking at you. And he said your name like it was the only one he's ever wanted to say."

She rolled her eyes.

"If nothing else, I heard he's got a big cock, too."


	4. Part 4

**Disclaimer:** I am not JK Rowling.

* * *

 **VI.**

Ron sighed, sitting down on the couch with a tumbler of Whiskey in his hand.

Hermione stood by the suite's bar, leaning on the window with a cigarette burning thoughtlessly between her fingers, the mouth of her wine glass gripped carelessly in the same hand. She tried her damnedest not to hate him, not to _hurt_ him, but it was much harder than she imagined it would be. Knowing that he'd acted on impulse pained her. It was disgusting to even recall that he'd called it thinking with his heart instead of his head, because he should have had _her_ in his heart. Not Pansy Parkinson.

She took one last puff of her barely touched cigarette and put it out in the ashtray. "I met a guy."

He looked over at her, the surprise on his face so boyish that she almost regretted wanting to hurt him. "When?"

"In January."

"Are you fucking kidding me, Hermione?" He sat up, looking at her with clouded, angry eyes.

"No. It isn't…He doesn't mean anything to me. I've seen him maybe three times since? And only one of those with my fault."

"You fault?"

"I asked him to meet me for drinks. I needed to figure out why his presence plagued me."

"Plagued you?" Ron laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "And you're upset with me for cheating, Hermione? You realize you've done the exact same thing, don't you?"

"Don't fucking compare these two things, Ron. I realized that what I was doing wasn't right and I asked him not to come back to the store."

"Then why admit it? If there isn't any guilt? If you did nothing wrong?"

"Because I want you to hurt as badly as I do." She poured herself another glass of wine, considering what more she could say. "Because I want you to know that someone else desired me, a fellow intellectual, someone interested in the same things I'm interested in. Someone that I…someone that I very well could have cheated on you with. And I _didn't_ , because I respect- excuse me- respect _ed_ you and what we had. I recognized what I was feeling as less than and not worthy of destroying what I had with my mate. And _you_ ….you followed your sodding _heart,_ which, mind you, should have lead you to me. You followed your heart into some other woman's bed –her _cunt_ , really _-_ "

"Hermione," Ron groaned disgustedly.

She threw her wine glass across the room, the red wine staining the smart, pale grey of the wall. "That's how I feel, Ronald. Don't ask me to make my emotions more pleasant for you. I'm already resisting the urge to kill you."

His eyes widened, watching her as though her wasn't quite sure who he was dealing with.

"And for months. You've allowed this to go on for _months_ , Ron, and you haven't been man enough to even tell me. _Me_ : your wife, your _mate._ If there is no one else you can tell, it should be _me_."

Ron sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I am so sorry, Hermione. I truly am. I…I don't know what else to say or do. What do you want?"

She tugged her hand through her hair, refusing to cry. "What do _you_ want?"

Ron wiped his eyes. "Honestly? I want a divorce."

"Done. I've already filed a petition."

"I'll have Sherborne ensure it's taken care of quickly and discreetly. We wouldn't want this getting nasty."

"You mean you don't want your mother to know you've been fucking someone else."

Ron cringed, but said nothing.

Hermione looked around the room slowly, wondering if the other woman had already been there; if she was just waiting for her to leave before coming back up to the room. "I hope she's worth it, Ron. I really do."

He stood up, crossing the room and standing directly in front of her. Hermione let him reach for her hand and hold it in his own. "I hope you can find happiness and fulfillment someplace. Be it in your studies or your travel or your store."

She rubbed the tears from her cheeks, ignoring the fact that he didn't mention love. It wasn't an argument she felt like having. "I'll have my stuff out of the house within the week."

"Take your time. I don't…I probably won't come back to the house. It's yours on paper, anyway. Sell it or whatever."

She let go of his hand and grabbed her jacket from where she'd tossed it on a barstool. "Maybe I could meet her sometime? We could go on a double date or something."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. I'd like to know what she has that I don't. What…what she could offer you that I couldn't."

He seemed conflicted before saying, "I needed someone here. With me. And I couldn't find it in my heart to ask that of you, because I know how important your freedom is to you."

"Thanks, I guess." His admission was more confusing than helpful, though, because she wasn't sure where his neediness had suddenly come from.

"And she wants children," he said quickly, his face flushing red.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" She stared blankly at him before grabbing her purse. "Neither of us are in a place to have children right now, Ron. It wouldn't be fair to either of us, or to them." Shaking her head, she said, "I guess that's why you need someone who can dedicate their life to you. Good. I'm happy for you. I really am. I'm thankful, too. Because I couldn't do it."

"So, I'll see you around, then?"

"Yeah. What should I do with your stuff?"

"Give it to Ginny-"

"No. She's your sister, I get it, but she's my friend and I'm not putting her in the middle of this."

"Okay. I'll send Percy, then."

Hermione laughed. "Ok. Well," she took a deep breath and nodded. "This is so strange."

"I know. Ten years."

"Ten years," she repeated. "Felt like longer."

"You're right," he smiled softly, his eyes shining.

She swore she could see the memories passing through them, and distracted herself by twisting her ring off her finger.

"No, Hermione. That's yours. I can't…I don't want it."

"Neither do I, Ron. What do you expect me to do with it?"

"I don't know. Auction it or something. Hermione…who is it? Is it someone I know?"

"I told you he came into the store, Ronald. Come on-"

"What's his name?" He asked.

"His name is Tom. Tom Riddle."

Rom stepped away from her as though he'd been burned. "What did you just say?"

"Oh, come on, Ron. You don't know him, alright? I…I asked him if you all were friends and he said no."

"Because we weren't fucking friends! Anyone but him, Hermione. I…I know it isn't fair of me to ask. But, he's a fucking freak. Harry and I, we played his school a few times at Eton…he got fucking put out of Eton...Hermione-"

"He's older than us," she told him.

Ron seemed distracted, visibly shaken by the idea of her being with someone else. "By a few years. Love, listen, he's crazy. He probably still thinks he can live forever and that he's a wizard-"

Hermione felt her blood run cold. Ron was still talking, still talking about how much of a freak Tom was because he believed he could do magic. It was as though he didn't even know her.

"-so you can't, you _can't,_ be interested in him. Okay? Nothing good will come from it. I don't want to see you like that."

"Like what?" She questioned, her voice quiet and body tense.

"Like him. _Crazy_. You're…your little herbs and candles, and even your incense and chants: they're normal. Father Dumbledore and plenty other holy figures do all the same things.

"You're good. You go to mass and confessions and you're…He…he isn't right. He can move things with his mind. He can…he's evil, Hermione. Listen to me, okay? Trust me."

Hermione swallowed heavily. She couldn't believe what Ron was saying, but she wasn't surprised by it. He'd never liked anything he couldn't do for himself. What she couldn't believe was that Tom was a wizard, and that he hadn't mentioned it when she told him she was a witch.

"He can move things?" She asked quietly.

"Like a demon, Hermione. Swear."

Someone knocked at the door, and she thought it was a good time to show him that she could move things, too. Lifting her hand, she magicked the door open, watching the color drain from him his face. "I guess I'm a demon, too, huh?"

"Hermione-"

" _Don't_ , Ron. I'll see you, I guess." Hermione grabbed her duffel bag and left, brushing past the dark haired women in the doorway, doing her best not to cry.

 **VII.**

HW: _I need to see you_

TR: _I could come over_

 _If you need me to._

HW: _No. The Botanist in Chelsea_

TR: _Okay. 40 mins_

She ordered a bottle of champagne while she waited.

# # #

"You're pissed," Tom sat down next to Hermione, smiling at the bar tender that offered him a menu. "Should I bother ordering, or do I need to get you home?"

"I walked over- I live right down the street. In Knightsbridge."

"Of course you do," he murmured, leaning closer to her. "Are you alright, Hermione?"

She turned to look at him, finding him only a breath away. When he didn't move away, she rested her forehead against his and felt his hand against her back. His smile was evident in the way air rushed out of his nose, and Hermione distracted herself by pressing her lips to his –quickly and innocently, in a way that was so familiar she felt him start in shock- before pulling away and returning to her glass.

"It's been months since we've seen each other," she commented, mostly to herself.

"I believe we saw each other just two weeks ago."

She rolled her eyes. "That was hardly a meeting."

As she said the words, she remembered the fall out of seeing him at the stadium. It felt like a lifetime ago.

His thumb rubbed circles on her back, eyes heavy on her. "It was everything to me."

She froze, looking at him from under her lashes. His eyes were focused intently, jaw set seriously as he waited for her to acknowledge him. Hermione licked her lips, "You're such a charmer, Mr. Riddle. Honestly."

He grinned in response. She took another sip of her champagne.

"Ron and I are divorcing."

With his hand still at the small of her back, he leaned even closer and pressed his lips to her bare shoulder before straightening and looking over the menu. "Have you eaten?"

"Yeah."

"I communed with some associates on my way here from Cambridge," Tom told her, reaching into his blazer and pulling out his wallet. "I could use a drink, though."

"I forgot about you being a professor," she mumbled, reaching for her bag and pulling out her pullover and pack of mints. "What are you even doing around here?"

"I was going to met with Bella."

Hermione tried not to frown. She filled her mouth with mints before saying, "I forgot about her, too."

He half laughed, watching her amusedly. "Perhaps we should get you into bed."

"No. Go on about your weekend. It was silly of me to text you."

Tom sighed. "May I have a whiskey?" He asked when the bartender was near enough. He also ordered two steaks and salads to go before sliding over his card and asking for everything on one tab. Knocking back his spirit, he said, "I think, like Ron for you, Bella was just a filler until we were ready for each other."

"You aren't even fated."

"You see how far that got _you_ , though."

Hermione groaned tiredly. "Get away from me. Both Ginny _and_ Ron warned me against you. I don't know why I even contacted you."

He chuckled, voice soft and low as he said, "You changed your mind. There is nothing wrong with that. People grow up, they grew apart. It's a natural part of life."

She felt his fingers against her neck, smoothing into her hair as though he'd done it a thousand times before.

"You should try to sober up, though. If you want this to go the way you planned when you contacted me."

He signed the bill and tucked his card back into his wallet.

"I'm not drunk, Tom. I'm…alone."

"Aren't you used to that, though? Wasn't Weasley usually away?"

"That was different." She unclasped her Mondaine and set it on the bar-top before stretching her arm over to him, showing him her broken clock. His fingers were hot against her cool flesh, thumb brushing her inner wrist. "This is probably what you'd hoped for."

"Prayed," he corrected her, still focused on her broken clock. His thumb continued to brush over it, as though he was willing it to start again.

"Prayed?" Hermione questioned. "You didn't strike me as religious, screwing your friend's mate and all."

The grin he offered her was so indulgent and boyish that she couldn't help but smile back. "She talked about you the entire ride back to her house. She wanted to know if we had the same arrangement as she and I did."

"Did."

Tom licked his lips, eyes falling down to hers. She blushed.

Grabbing the bag of food, he stood up. "I officially broke things off with her before coming inside."

"Officially," she repeated him again, tasting the word in her mouth. It was like hot tea on a cold, rainy day.

"I knew our relationship was over when I felt you at the stadium. I've been in the process of ending it since."

Her eyes widened. "That's bold of you." She pulled her sweater over her head to stop looking at him.

"I don't doubt us."

"Don't you?" She grabbed her purse and laced her fingers through his on the way out. He didn't seem to mind, or even notice; she felt his pulse beating against her wrist. "People grow up, they grow apart."

He tilted his head back and laughed as he led her to his Escalade. "Charming."

"I mean it." She stumbled. "I'll call her and apologize for you. Explain it was all just a misunderstanding."

When they reached his car, he helped her in and leaned on the frame, watching her carefully. "Probably best to keep you all apart for as long as possible."

"What makes you think we'd even _meet,_ Tom?"

He smirked. "Her husband is a close friend of mine. I'm sure you would met sometime."

"Assuming we amount to something more than this weekend."

He nodded, stepping back onto the curb. "We'll grow together, not apart."

"I've done this before," she told him, smoothing her hands over her skirt. "I know how it goes better than you. This could last five minutes for all you know."

"Or forever."

She looked up at him, eyes blank as she observed him. He closed her door and rounded the car to his side.

"Where do you live?"

"Off Brompton. On Cheval."

He laced his fingers through hers again, pulling out and starting toward her house.

"Are you always so confident?" She questioned.

His thumb brushed over her knuckles. "When you want something, the whole universe conspires to help you."*

She wanted to laugh. To tell him that she knew he was 'freak' like her, and that he should drop the act. Instead, she said "Ok, Paulo. Turn left here."

* * *

*A play on Paulo Coelho's famous _the Alchemist_ , "And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it."


	5. Part 5

**Disclaimer:** I'm not JK Rowling

 **A/N:** I honestly thought I posted this some time ago, and I apologize. So, without much ado, here is the final part. Head's up - there is suggestive language and themes.  
(I feel as though it's important to remind you all that this is essentially a really long one-shot; the ending is open-ended and abrupt. My apologies if thats uncomfortable for you.)

* * *

 **VIII.**

"I dreamt of you, too."

Tom smiled, his fingers brushing slowly through Hermione's hair. As his eyes lowered from the ceiling to where she lay on her chest, he ran his tongue along his teeth, and Hermione swore she could see a thousand thoughts filter across his mind. She swore she could feel them, too. Her skin tingled in the warm air of her living room, attempting to feel the magic he always kept so suppressed.

"I know," he told her softly.

"You know?" She asked curiously, a smile playing on her lips.

Smirking, Tom lifted his hand from where it rested on her hip, and swept his arm over to the coffee table. He slowly waved his palm over one of the candles she'd left there, the flame dying out instantly. Her mind seemed to come alive, eyes widening and heart stuttering. It was the first time she'd ever witnessed his power.

He waved his hand over the candle again, the wick catching flame even before he'd completed the action. His magic washed over her as though it was always meant to be there. Even once he was done, she felt it against her, warm and curious. She wondered how he'd kept it so quiet all this time.

"I knew you were wizard," she told him, but awe was clear in her voice. "Ron told me, when we were breaking up."

He brought his hand back to her hip, his touch still hot with magic, looking back at her as though he knew something she didn't. "He was upset," he remarked, watching as she nodded confirmation. "He always hated when someone could do something he couldn't." Tom rubbed his chin, eyes suddenly distant. "He got me put out of Eton, you know?"

"I didn't know that."

"Imagine how different you'd be if you'd met me ten years ago."

Their eyes met, and she tried. She tried to imagine waking up to his face and knowing how he took his eggs or just how he liked his cock sucked. Rubbing her eyes, she asked, "Do you remember your first? Dream, I mean."

" _Yes_ ," he breathed. He relaxed further beneath her. "I was ten. My stepmother sent me to bed without dinner- she was a witch, too; but, she never told my father because he hated them. He had my mother killed because she was one, and he still doesn't know that his wife-," he shook his head tiredly. She looked away as his eyes went blank, resettling against him comfortably.

"Anyway, she locked me in my room. Took away all the books and toys. I hadn't eaten anything more than an apple since breakfast the day before, and I had nothing to do but sleep to distract myself.

"And I dreamt I had dinner with you. You must have been what, six or seven? I couldn't figure out why you were there, but you were. We were eating chicken tenders and baby potatoes, and you were talking about your parents' jobs and how they were never home-"

Hermione gasped.

He seemed startled. "You had the same dream?"

Her eyes met his again. "Yes."

For a moment, he seemed confused, obviously skeptical. But, Hermione said, "And we had pistachio ice cream for dessert. You hated it. It's still one of my favorites," and a slow smile pulled his lips across his face. She smiled, too.

"Oh, Miss Granger. How funny life is."

They watched each other carefully, both attempting to understand their situation. Hermione decided that he already knew how he wanted this to go, and she got the feeling he always got what he wanted. She didn't mind it. She had plenty to offer him. Plenty to gain, too.

Reaching for his hand, she drew hers fingers over his palm, feeling it heat up beneath her touch. "Funny indeed, Tom."

 **IX.**

"What are you hiding?"

Hermione looked up to see Tom watching her with narrowed eyes. "What do you mean? About your research?"

He frowned, offering a quick shake of his head. "You have been distant since you arrived, Hermione. I'd nearly convinced you to move in last week. I'm only wondering what could have changed." As an afterthought he asked, "Did your clock start?"

She scowled at him. "That is such a cruel thing to ask."

Looking back down to the academic text she was reading, she drew her finger down the in attempt to refocus. The air in his study was suddenly too warm. At length, she said, "I've been thinking about what you said, about how different things would have been if we'd met ten years ago."

He offered a tight smile, but his voice was nearly nurturing as he breathed, "Why, they'd be perfect, of course. As they are now."

Hermione laughed nervously. "Alright," she swallowed thickly. "Alright. If you say so."

"You don't agree?" He reached over, hooking his middle finger around her pointer.

"Honestly?" She became distracted as his thumb brushed hers soothingly. "I don't…Do you know many others there are like us? That can actually do what we do?"

"Yes. I exclusively maintain relationships with magical people only."

Her eyes widened as she stared at him. "Of course you do," she said at length. "Don't you think that if people like us were meant to be together, like this, there would be communities for us by now?"

His eyes were blank as she stared into them, and he continued to rub her thumb distractingly.

She tugged her free hand through her dark curls before saying, "I don't believe we are possible, Tom. We are too powerful, too whole on our own, to be meant for each other."

He leaned closer to her, and she realized then that his gaze wasn't blank, and it never had been. She'd spent their time together thinking that his eyes were flat and black, _empty_ and futureless. But, now that she saw him, truly saw him and his power and felt his magic like a second skin over hers, she realized that they were as vast and endless as the night sky. They went on forever, and it was so easy to become caught up in and with him.

She was already so tangled, so out of control.

"We are supreme," he told her, voice low and velvety as it reached her. "Divine. You said so yourself." His smile was so innocent, so believable. "You are no longer fated, Hermione. You are beyond the reach of mortal thoughts and ideas and experiences.

"We have the potential to-"

He stopped himself, lifting her hand to his mouth and pressing his lips to the soft skin between her index finger and thumb. "I forget that I can be too intense, especially to those who do not have much experience with other magical folk. You don't have much experience," his eyes flashed with a mixture of arrogance and anticipation. "Do you, Hermione?" His voice was even quieter than before, as though someone would be able to hear them outside of his flat.

He was betting on her not knowing many. He had plans and goals and- _I exclusively maintain relationships with only magical people._ Had he sought her out? Had someone pointed him in her direction? Or had he felt her magic in passing and couldn't help himself?

But, they'd always known the other was out there. Maybe the world _had_ just been preparing them for each other…

Her face felt hot with confusion and awareness that contradicted itself, but she understood- she understood Ginny and Ron and the rush she felt by just being around Tom Riddle. He was dangerous in a way that she hadn't at all anticipated in that coffee shop, but she should have recognized.

His ease and his comfort. His small smirks and heavy confidence. His not being afraid of or uncomfortable around her in the way he should have been, the way most people were…

She swallowed heavily, still watching him.

It made her hungry and dependent. It was exactly what he needed her to be. Because he had a goal and a dream and –Ron had said something, when she hadn't been paying attention to him, something important she couldn't remember now.

"I know a few people. Definitely at least two. One…he," she looked away from Tom. There was nothing she could say without telling him everything, and it wasn't exactly time, yet.

Hermione rubbed her chest in attempt to soothe herself, her fingers digging into the curve of her collarbone every chance they got. "He wasn't a bad person, but he did very bad things, and when he was found out…they attempted to exorcise him, thinking it was demons, but it wasn't. He's since been institutionalized."

He was frowning uncertainly. "How do you know this person, Hermione?"

"He was the head of my church, before Dumbledore."

"You're talking about Father Grindelwald?"

She felt alive for the second time in forever. "Yes."

He went back to rubbing his thumb along hers, still frowning. "The Immortal Man."

"He was an incredibly talented wizard. Powerful and intelligent-"

"You consider The Immortal Man your _friend_ , Hermione."

She sighed. "I don't know why people called him that. It was a silly legend. He is…Grindelwald can die. We can all die. There is no such thing as true immortality."

He wasn't listening. She squeezed his hand in attempt to get his attention, but his eyes were still far away when he looked at her. "Many people left the church when he was institutionalized," Tom commented offhandedly.

"Yes. I imagine they were all magical people, but I didn't associate too much with anyone outside of the Weasley family. I don't think they even realized he and I were so close."

"Imagine having that sort of following," he murmured. He shifted her fingers, wrapping his around hers and bringing her hand to his mouth again. He kissed her knuckles almost reverently between thoughts. "That sort of power and influence. People would just gravitate, Hermione. Could you-"

His eyes were large and glassy, and he blinked a few times in attempt to gain control, but it seemed to be in vain. He looked at her as though he were begging and pleading, but his words were so strong and sure that she wasn't sure what to believe as he said, "Imagine us. Growing and controlling a magical community in in England, in Great Britain- There are none. I know. I've researched.

"We could live forever and control everything."

Almost instantly, she realized that he was _praying_. He wasn't begging and pleading with her, but to whatever higher power he believed in. She pulled her hand from his, getting up and pacing back and forth for a few seconds. He'd told her that he'd prayed for things before, but she hadn't _believed_ him. Now…Folding her arms over her chest, she looked back at him and said, "We could. We could live forever and control everything. But why would we want to?"

He didn't appear to understand the question, but she hadn't expected him to.

"You must introduce me to him," he told her casually. "I can't believe you hadn't mentioned that you know The Immortal Man, Hermione. You know my plans."

She frowned at him. "Stop calling him that."

"It's what he is, Hermione! It's…Oh. This is what you meant earlier. When you asked if I thought you were hiding something about my research."

Unable to stop herself, she winced, face tightening and body turning rigid. She mentally scolded herself for a moment, debating whether or not the truth was worth it. Nervously, she told him, "Yes. Immortality isn't what you think it is. You will be closer to death than you've ever been if you attempt it."

"We are all constantly just a moment away from dying, Hermione."

"Yes, well," she bit her lip, shoulder tense and stomach in knots as she thought over her words. This was _it_. This was _forever_. "You won't understand what I mean until you chance it. But it isn't a sure thing, Tom. You could end up like Grindelwald."

"He is a great man."

"His mind is so fractured that he can barely tell you apart from himself."

He watched her carefully, and she wondered if he would figure it out. If he would open his eyes and see her. Instead of impressing her, he asked, "We could live forever, witch. Be gods amongst men, even before our own kind."

"You cannot pray to god while attempting to become one, Tom."

"Can't I?"

 **X.**

"Don't be silly," Hermione murmured, slowly rubbing Tom's thigh as they sat waiting for her friends. "They'll…like you."

Tom laughed disbelievingly, "That wasn't convincing, Hermione. At all."

She sighed, propping her elbow up on the table and pressing her jaw into her palm. They were so close that his breath fanned over her face with each exhale. It was sickening and disgusting and she loved it damn near irrationally –only, it wasn't really irrational. He had grown on her over the past few weeks. His ideas of expansion and community were inspiring; his charm was captivating and enchanting, making his handsome face even more inviting…making forever seem far easier than it ever had.

"They will grow to like you. They have no choice if they want me to remain in their lives. And Ginny _is_ my best friend; not to mention, she's a bit fond of you from whatever happened in you all's past."

He grinned, slowly and secretively. She pointedly ignored it.

"They'll see that I'm good for you, I suppose."

"Good for me?" She questioned teasingly.

He gripped her wrist beneath the table, thumb rubbing slowly over her pulse point. She watched him carefully. Waiting. His blood pulsed hot and harsh, casting a dull lull over her body.

Her eyes fell closed appropriately as he said, "Of course." His lips brushed her face. "I am your equal, after all."

The entire world seemed to quiet for what felt like an eternity. It didn't drag and tire- it moved quickly, passing through her and imprinting on her brain so pointedly that Hermione found herself trying to get closer and closer to him. He let go of her wrist and slid his hand beneath her skirt, fingers dragging familiarly over her skin.

"Do you love me yet?" She asked him quietly.

His free hand tilted her jaw up, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek as his fingers circled closer to her core. She opened her thighs for him as he said, "Almost."

"I hope we aren't interrupting anything," Harry's voice filled the air of the hotel room- it was the most private place they could 'dine out' with little fanfare.

Hermione jumped up, hugging and kissing her friends before introducing Tom, who stood and greeted them stiffly.

"Sorry we're late," Ginny offered as they sat down, her eyes over Tom curiously.

He reached for Hermione's hand beneath the table, much to her surprise. "No worries," she told them. "It gave us time to catch up a bit."

"I was under the impression you all were living together," Harry injected. Ginny hit his arm in scolding.

"Not yet," Tom volunteered. "I'm working on it."

Their eyes met, each silently feeling the other out. Hermione bit her lip as their pre-ordered appetizers arrived with wine for the table.

"Well," Ginny breathed after a sip of wine. "You all look quiet cozy. So well-matched and familiar." She looked at Hermione with a small frown as she added, "So powerful."

"Thank you, Ginevra."

Harry attempted to catch her eye.

"It makes me wonder if we have the right people in line to be our King and Queen," she laughed jokingly, poking at her boyfriend in jest.

Harry laughed uncomfortably.

Tom only smiled.

# # #

"Why didn't you tell me?" Tom questioned.

"That they're engaged?" Hermione twisted her hair into a bun. "How was I to know? You've been monopolizing my time for weeks."

"That he is one of the people you know. That the royal line is magical," he told her tiredly.

"Oh…that. They are not. Only Harry. And you'd do well to keep that to yourself. I'd hate to have to kill you and…ruin all your fancy plans."

His smile was slow and indulgent, both at and for her. "Imagine," he leaned over the car's middle console and kissed her shoulder. His fingers, back on her thigh in the privacy of his Escalade, drew warm circles on her bare skin as they made their way back to her home.

" _Imagine,"_ he breathed again, looking at the road ahead. The light turned green. "You and I, in control of the King of England's brother…phenomenal."

She smiled, observing the flush of his skin. When he glanced over, she saw that his eyes were clouded with suppressed excitement and power.

"I told you the world was ours, didn't I?" He squeezed her knee familiarly before letting go and tugging his hand through his hair. "Didn't I?"

 **XI.**

"I contacted Grindelwald."

Her brows rose as she watched him put his jacket on. Their eyes met as he zipped it up. He was searching her for something, and she offered him a knowing smile in reply, leaning against her foyer wall as she folded her arms over her chest.

"Interesting," she told him.

"Quite."

"Did you learn anything of interest, Tom? Something you didn't feel comfortable enough to ask me directly?"

He touched her face, a both possessive and distracting action. "He was loathe to tell me _anything_ , but I'm sure you already knew that would be the case."

She shrugged. "Our relationship wasn't public knowledge. I wouldn't speak of it in any detail to anyone, either."

"Even me? Your mate?"

Hermione laughed softly. Tom shoved his hands into his pockets as he leaned against the front door.

"Don't talk to me about trusting mates."

He nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "He did warn me against you."

She grinned at him pointedly, daring him to make the next move. He only waited. She unfolded her arms long enough to rub the back of her thigh, her fingers coming away sticky with their combined fluids.

"I'm sure that I've been telling you for some time now that we are not right for each other, Tom. We are too powerful on our own for anything good to come out of this."

"Like you and he were."

"You misunderstand. He and I were not romantically involved, nor did we aspire to have the majority of the things you want. He was a mentor, of sorts. We learned a great deal about ourselves with each other."

He was disgusted, if the half snarl on his face was anything to go by. "Why would he warn me against you?"

Hermione sighed tiredly. "You want to come back to bed to have this conversation?"

"I've been meaning to tell you that I'm not sharing a bed with you in this house again. It's sick that you even still live here."

"Where do you propose I live? This place is central to my work and my life. In a year, it won't even matter that Ron lived here…he was barely here, anyway."

"I've told you time and time again that my home is open to you, Hermione."

"You don't even _trust_ me _, Tom._ How do you expect me to want to live with you, knowing that you're going to fact check everything I say?" She refolded her arms before saying, "I wouldn't be the witch I am today without my experience with him, alright? I…he knows exactly who I could be, I suppose better than I would know, if given the chance."

His eyes sparkled, body relaxing as a small smile formed on his face. Hermione almost laughed. "Am I that chance?"

She rolled her tongue around her mouth, far too obviously nervous. Tom didn't seem to mind. The idea enchanted him too greatly for him to care what it meant for her. She'd known for some time that he was interested in molding her into his ideal witch.

Biting her lip, Hermione said, "I guess we'll find out."

 **XII.**

"I expected you."

Hermione dropped her Antigona on the table, eyes looking over the hospital room before landing on Grindelwald. He was holding something between his palms, watching her with a half knowing, half crazed smile on his lips. She sat down on his room's only chair and folded one knee over the other.

"Sooner, admittedly."

"Sorry to disappoint."

He opened his hands to reveal a small bird, grinning as she started in surprise. It turned to dust as it leapt from his hands in attempt to fly. She cringed, eyes closing briefly.

"That boy is no good, Miss Granger. No good at all."

"Yet you warned him against _me_."

"I didn't think he'd like knowing there is a power greater then his…"

"You told him-"

"Of course not." Grindelwald rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Is he the boy from your memories? Ah, yes. He is. Curious. Curious, indeed, that you all have found each other at such a vulnerable time in both of your lives."

Silence settled between them, as it always did. They didn't have much to say to each other now that he had little access to the outside word. His mind seemed to be eating itself alive, and Hermione really didn't want to hear too much of what he had to say in such a state.

"He wants too much, Mausi. You don't need such things."

She plucked a piece of lint off of her jeans. "He wants to get you out of here. Legally or," she shrugged, her words hanging in the air.

He frowned, getting up from his bed and pacing around the room. The pale coloring of his hospital uniform made him appear sicklier than he was. As he paced the room, he murmured, "How curious, indeed."

"I, of course, have reservations toward such an idea."

"He doesn't know about us, I suppose. I am very fond of you, Miss Granger, though not in the way he is, and I am not sure he will ever understand the…fragile complexity of our relationship."

"He wants it," she breathed, watching him with widening eyes.

"I know. He asked if it was true that I am immortal."

"I didn't tell him."

"I know. He is…he is an intelligent man, but his interest in everlasting life is childish. He doesn't know what it means. He refuses to see," he gestured between them casually.

Upon studying the look on her face, his brows rose. "He doesn't know." He crossed the room and leaned against the table, next to her.

"I told you I didn't tell him. Of course he doesn't know."

A passing nurse peered into room, but said nothing after observing Hermione's relaxed state.

"Do you want him to?"

"I never expected my life to turn into this. One second things were perfect, and then suddenly he and I are breaking bread and I'm divorcing Ron and-" She tugged her hands through her curls.

"I expected to grow old and for him to die and for me to," Hermione bit her lips to keep from saying too much. "You know I am not used to magical people in my life. I am not…I don't know how to act around them."

As though he hadn't heard her at all, he said, "You could offer him the world. He will be indebted to you; you know that. It would…you will have the control you desire if you do."

"The control I desire?" She questioned. "I don't desire that power over anyone."

Grindelwald laughed. "Stop lying to yourself."

She scowled at him. "A moment ago you were telling me he was no good. If you wanted to get out of you, you just have to say the world, old man. I don't need Tom _Riddle_ to make that happen."

"I want to know his plan."

"You all didn't share that in your little circle of trust the other day?"

"No, no. Not exactly."

"He wants to start a world for people like us. He only associates with magical people. He is an elitist; like his father, though I'm not sure he realizes it."

"An immortal leader. Dangerous indeed. He won't last."

She took offence to that, but resisted saying anything.

"Even if he lives, he will consume himself." Grindelwald patted her shoulder. "He wants too much, Miss Granger. You mustn't let him consume you."

"Then I can't give him anything."

"You're stronger than that. I know it."

They sat in silence until darkness fell over the room. Another nurse turned the light on when she realized he wasn't alone in his room.

"Mausi."

"Hmm?"

"I need to get out of here, Mausi. Get me out of here. I will listen to you this time. Just get me out of here."

She looked up at him, wrapping her hands around his as she observed his eyes. They were shiny with insanity only wards such as these could cause. He would be no good to her anymore.

"Okay," she told him. "Prepare yourself. I'll be back in a week."

"With the boy?" He asked, oddly hopeful.

"If that's what you want."

He nodded.

"I hadn't realized you wanted a private world for people like us."

"There is a lot I didn't share with you, because of your morals." He squeezed her hand as he got up. "I can only hope that you are more relaxed now. I much prefer you to that boy."

"Yet you want me to bring him."

He shrugged. "My interest in him is beneficial to the both of us."

She kissed his forehead and left.

# # #

"What do you want him for?"

Hermione sat down on the other side of the desk, watching as Tom graded papers. He was silent for a long time, the scratch of his felt-tip pen against paper the rooms only sound. She watched him curiously, observing the strength of his shoulders and the sharp curves of his cheeks. Now that she knew him, his confidence was no longer a quiet extra she noticed a few conversations in; it was in her face now, pressing against her and forcing her to acknowledge his power and ability.

The only thing endearing now was the hunger in his eyes- and the mysterious shadows in them every now and then, equally dangerous and enchanting.

After nearly ten minutes, he finally said, "Collateral."

"For _what_?"

He sighed, lifting his pen off the page so it wouldn't bleed through. In his pause, he murmured, "You don't really want to live forever," without looking up from his work. He set his pen back down and continued grading.

Hermione very nearly choked in her attempt not to laugh. Her voice was scandalized as she asked, "What, pray tell, gave you that impression?"

"You wouldn't ask such a questions. Also, you don't display any desire for it, Hermione." He was tired, she realized as his eyes lifted to hers. "Now that I know you and Gellert Grindelwald were close, I can assume that it is your passing interest and his desire."

She rubbed her eyebrow. "You know what they say about assuming things, Mr. Riddle."

Tom rolled his eyes. "He had a following of possibly hundreds, even thousands, considering his travels. I would be foolish to start a world without someone such as Grindelwald in my court. Connections. Insight. Knowledge, I am loath to admit, my age doesn't allow me yet."

She crossed her legs and smoothed her hands over her skirt, "All you've to do is ask, you know, and I'd give you the world."

He smiled, because he didn't believe her, and said, "Wasn't it I that promised you that?"

She hummed in recollection. "My point is that you don't need him with you to get what you want out of this life. And, I met him tonight. He is not the man he was before. I told you that, before. I don't know how helpful he will be to you."

"Just to have him will be beneficial. You will see."

"Beneficial," she repeated lowly. It was the second time tonight she'd heard the world in reference to the web they were all suddenly trapped in.

"Yes. You will benefit from this greatly, witch. I promise."

"You promise what, Tom?"

He frowned, looking at her as though he couldn't believe the question. "I promise you power, Hermione. Immortality."

She licked her lips, fighting with herself. After a second too long, she asked, "And why would you promise me that?"

"Because we are fated, regardless of whether or not your clock works, and I know what you want."

"I thought that about Ron and I, you know, and you see where that got me."

"What is that supposed to mean, Hermione? You plan on leaving me once I've gotten what I want?"

"Oh," she smoothed her hands over her skirt again, a smile on her lips. "You've noticed that I'm good at that, have you?"

"Don't be so foolish, witch. It doesn't suite you."

Hermione picked at her nail, a small smile on her lips, "What do you want more? Immortality or me?"

His voice was confident as he said, "I want you both. Equally."

She met his eyes again. "This is the third time I've found myself in this situation, Tom. I am trapped in this cycle of the same old love story-"

"You said you weren't interested in Grindelwald in such a way," he commented quickly, eyes quick to turn skeptical of her. "And there was no one before Ron."

Hermione made a gesture with her hand as if to flick away his concerns. "You can love in many ways, Tom. Perhaps your childhood was to cold for you to understand that." She smiled prettily at him, watching as his distrust of her continued to grow. "I told you that you don't know me yet. It seems that logic is beyond you when there is something you want. That isn't such a remarkable trait in someone who wants to rule the world," she teased him, getting up from her chair and rounding his desk.

She leaned against the table beside him, fingers curving over the edge of the wood. "It's okay, though, because I can see beyond present inconveniences and desires. We will be good together, Tom."

He considered her for a moment. "Where has this witch been since I met you?" He questioned, pushing his things away from him and pulling her so that she was between his legs. His hands remained at her waist, a thumb rubbing circles on her hip. "We could have saved so much time, love."

She only smiled at him, touching his jaw fondly. "I am very good at getting great men where they want to be. You just have to promise that you won't stop listening to me once you get there."

He grabbed her hand and placed it over his heart, "You seem to forget that it is you and I forever, Hermione. I have never wanted anything but eternal life, the way I want you."

"Good," she told him, "because you have me. And, if you've yet to notice, I can offer you immortality."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you so much for reading! If there is anything you need clarity on, please feel free to ask. I may end up posting an epilogue or something (bc I am itching to show you all what happens...). I also really love constructive criticism, this has been a tough year for my creativity wise, so it's all beneficial. Anyway, again, thank you so much for reading. See you all again soon (:


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